The Wheelhouse Ballad

The Outside Track performing at The Wheelhouse in September 2013

The Outside Track performing at The Wheelhouse in September 2013

House concerts are the norm in North America; much less so in the UK. It was therefore a real find and a lovely surprise to be introduced to a place called The Wheelhouse a couple of years ago, whilst on the local folk and roots music festival circuit. It took until last September to secure an ‘invite’ and we attended a gig with what turned out to be a surprisingly talented and very entertaining band called ‘The Outside Track‘.

On Saturday, we went again and, with a capacity audience of thirty five people, saw the evergreen Phil Beer, a multi instrumentalist and virtuoso Musician / Singer / Songwriter / Composer / Producer from the South West of England, who has rubbed shoulders over the years with the good and great of the business. Considering he had woken up the previous day with what he described as Man’flu, with a rather crokey voice, his performance was quite frankly astonishing.

The warm up act, this their first gig, was no less impressive. Its anchorman, Jamie Roberts, established, with Katriona Gilmore, as part of the successful, two times BBC Folk Awards nominees for best duo, Gilmore & Roberts, is a real talent. His partners

The Dovetail Trio at The Wheelhouse on 4th Jan 2014 (Photo Allan Wilkinson, all rights reserved)

The Dovetail Trio at The Wheelhouse on 4th Jan 2014 (Photo Allan Wilkinson, all rights reserved)

(Rosie Hood and Matt Quinn) in their new venture, The Dovetail Trio, were shining examples of what quality young talent lies as yet undiscovered, at least by us. What a voyage of discovery this world of music is!

The poem that follows was inspired by that evening of music and its charming performers.

A floral bunting points and bows
to David Oddy guitars;
below, a tiny stage is set
for a surprising list of stars.

The first to warm this humble place
a name we’ve seen before:
the boy, who makes six strings his own
with the fiddle voiced Gilmore.

(A boy, whose sister Kathryn,
makes sweet folk music and
who’s wed to another sibling boy
from the ranks of the Lakeman clan.)

And so, the Dovetail Trio formed;
the Roberts boy made song
with Rosie voiced Hood and squeeze box Quinn,
they impressed the gathered throng;

a throng, whose body may be small
but heart is mighty big;
it’s not the size that matters here
’tis the quality of the gig.

This humble garden shed is home
to a couple with a mission
to bring to town the best of folk,
with energy from musical fission.

Whilst Lynn gives over house and home
to wine and dine the guests,
Hedley gets all stars to come,
securing the very best.

He never tires in endless search
for an international star;
visiting a shed in Wombwell town,
the occasional musical tzar.

So Phil your glasses with lots of Beer
and drink his music in;
his knowledge, virtuosity
and a striking mandolin.

With three guitars, he picks and strums
the songs of history;
of folk and roots and legends, with
great musicality.

He’s one of few that I have seen,
with fiddle and bow in hand,
can sing as well as chase the notes
like a one man ceilidh band.

There’s fame among the audience too,
who’re ” Willin’ ” to sing along;
Dave Burland sang the hook refrain
in harmony with this song.

He’s one of many, who’ve visited
this palace made of wood,
whose atmosphere casts a spell
like a lyrical plate of food.

It’s a privilege to hear this euphony,
an age-old way to define
original song, whose language tells
a story in every line.

Stories told in such a way,
they touch the souls of all,
who come to Graceland Wheelhouse
and leave with hearts in thrall.

Photo of The Outside Track and Poem © 2014 John Anstie.

Photo of The Dovetail Trio by Allan Wilkinson

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Walking the Sacred Path with President Nelson Mandela

[John says: This is a collaborative series of writings on Nelson Mandela, in which I am proud to have played a part, pulled together by core contributors of The Bardo Group]

Terri's avatarThe BeZine

Nelson Mandela

This post is complementary to a post created at http://beguineagain.com/. I encourage you to read this and then read that post.

Today is the wrap-up in our recent series about President Nelson Mandela. As I was pondering how to close out the thoughts and hearts of our community, I remember that President Mandela was a deeply spiritual man who relied on the African theology of Ubuntu to carry the day. Ubuntu, which I have written about before, is the idea that “I am because we are.” It is deeply rooted in Africa with not only Mandela but Desmond Tutu subscribing to Ubuntu as core beliefs. Ubuntu is described below by Mandela himself.

“A traveler through our country would stop at a village, and he didn’t have to ask for food or for water. Once he stops, the people give him food, entertain him. That is one aspect…

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There but for Fortune … and a Rucksack

John says …

“The homeless are often maligned, and therefore the Rucksack Project brings a much needed boost to their cause. No-one deserves to be homeless, no-one deserves to be be poor; those of us who ‘have’ a roof over our heads. food and warmth, should be very grateful indeed that we did not fall foul of a kind of destiny predicated by our genetic heritage, environment, circumstances, parentage … that left us physically or mentally incapacitated or, more likely, both.”

PoetJanstie's avatarThe BeZine

Fortune seems to be the word of the moment for me; it keeps recycling itself and coming back to haunt me! On the one hand I’m not surprised, because I feel I’ve had my fare share of it. I was born into a middle class family, privately educated, for the most part and afforded the grants to enable me to attain undergraduate as well as postgraduate degrees. As a result of this start in my life, my career path has enabled me to get jobs in disciplines that require scientific, engineering and management skills, which later led to positions outside my original education and training, including giving me sufficient wit to own and manage my own company for a while.

Recently, I become involved, through the initiative and actions of Peter Wilkin, a Poet friend and co-author of the anthology, “Petrichor Rising”, which we published in July…

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To Edit, Perchance to Publish …

A companion piece to my interview below with Jamie Dedes … on my experience of editing, writing and publishing our book “Petrichor Rising” …

PoetJanstie's avatarThe BeZine

(On use of the English language)

” … To edit perchance to publish: ay, there’s the rub;

For in that edit of death what publishings may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause … “

(Editing liberties taken with Hamlet’s famous soliloquy, with thanks and apologies to William Shakespeare)

Jamie Dedes suggested that I should write about my experience of publishing.  I thought about this, but came to a conclusion that it would be pretentious to do so, because it would appear like someone, who had just successfully completed their first length of the swimming pool, writing a book on swimming the English channel!  However, there is something to write about in any experience, however humble.  So, I decided instead to write about it from a perspective, where I have a little more to offer.  This is the business of writing the…

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“Petrichor Rising” and how the Twitterverse birthed friendships that in turn birthed a poetry collection

This is an interview with a charming lady, writer and editor, Jamie Dedes. Her questions prompted some interesting reflective responses from me. What is more, she broke her own self-imposed editorial word limit to tell our story, the story of the Grass Roots Poetry Group.

Jamie Dedes's avatarJamie Dedes' THE POET BY DAY Webzine

product_thumbnail-3.php“I always had this notion that you earned your living and that poetry was a grace.” Seamus Heaney (1939-2013), Irish, poet, playwright, translator, educator and Nobel Prize winner

I’m sure my friend, John Anstie, poet and renaissance man, The Bardo Group core team member, and editor of and contributor to Petrichor Rising (eBook and paperback), a 2013 poetry collection of The Grass Roots Poetry Group (GRPG), would prefer that I focused on the poems and the collection. The feature-writer in me loves a good story though. (Forgive me, John!) The coming together of this group and the publication of their collection is as good a story as any and better than most … and hence, I break my usual self-imposed word limit on posts. Read on … You may recognize yourself in some of this …

“I do accounting. I am a writer.” an employee corrected…

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Twenty-Seven Years

As the West winds blew their fury
the earth let out a cry;
as if to deny expected truth,
it was more than just a sigh.
As if one life had greater value
than all of this; all of the love
that a world full of great lives
could bear to contemplate
the loss of a legend, but
whose wisdom remains immortal …

How many years in a small, small room
with the same view through the bars.
How many years of breaking stone
and a broken view of the stars.

How many years of prayer and pain,
to grow his wings and fly,
like soaring eagle, dancing crane,
over mountains in the sky.

How many years to find his truth,
and reconciliation;
empowering his legacy; to heal
the torment of a nation.

How long did it take to forge his spirit,
imbue his captors’ tears
with the power of his forgiveness
after twenty seven years.

© 2014 John Anstie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Nelson Mandela’s incarceration lasted for 27 years. At 72 years of age, 8 years older than I am now, he started a new life as leader of his country; and what immense leadership was necessary to hold together a very angry population, some sections of which would have been bent on revenge. His previous life ended in prison at the age of 45, in 1963, for being an anti Apartheid activist. I find the thought of being locked up for 27 years and surviving this, not only physically and mentally, but also able to lead a divided country, almost overwhelmingly daunting and utterly remarkable]

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The Bridge, by Ian McMillan

This is a short film of our local poet, Ian McMillan, the Bard of Barnsley, doing great and valuable work with local school children in remembering the lost of the world wars. This came about after the arrival of a new Minister at Christchurch Stocksbridge, who noticed how little anyone knew about the fifty names on the church’s memorial plaques. So, at the invitation of the Reverend Ian Lucraft, Ian McMillan, a local poet who happens to be very well known nationally, agreed to run music and poetry workshops at local schools as well as writing this poem.

We, that is the Waldershelf Singers, sang our first major Christmas concert at Christchurch last night, to a packed house; our guests were, as always, the choir of Deepcar St John’s Junior School, who feature in this film. Enjoy.

ianlucraft's avatarChrist Church Stocksbridge

Here is the film we made about the Memorial Project, with Ian reading his poem.

Please click the link above and it will take to the film in You Tube.

You’ll need to click on the film then to make it play.

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Emotional Baggage.

John says: “Wherever you are on the snakes and ladders of life, this is one articulate expression of why you should be grateful for what you have – this assumes that anyone, who does not ‘have’, will not have the equipment to read this …

Fanny the Champion of the World's avatarFanny the Champion of the World

I’ve been meaning to start writing this blog for months, but you know how it is. Life gets in the way – and I’ve been busy.

Still, as I sat here tonight in my nice, warm, comfy house, I was jolted into action by a Facebook post from a friend of mine who happened to mention this:

The Rucksack Project – Go to charity shops, get a rucksack, sleeping bag, flask (fill with hot soup), spoon, gloves, hat, fleece, undies, socks and extra food, take it out and give it to a homeless person. That’s it. As it says on the Facebook page, it’s really simple, costs very little, and should only take an hour of your time.

It struck a nerve. I’m sitting here in my nice, warm, comfy house, and some people aren’t.

We all see sad stuff on the TV and in the news, and we all think sad thoughts…

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Battle Horse

All life is sacred …

PoetJanstie's avatarThe BeZine

Lonely_by_Sylwiaa
[I’ve heard Ekphrasis* described as one of the ugliest words in the English language. In writing this poem, I would like to try and make it ironic]

In this, another war poem, at the same time I both celebrate and mourn the destiny of millions of horses in the front lines on World War 1. Here, I may talk about a strong stallion with great heritage from the same lines as pure bread battle horses that served knights of old before war became so mechanised.  The first world war was the turning point between the old and new ages of war, in which the military cavalry masters of the old order clashed with the new; and the result was an unmitigated armageddon, an unprecedented tragedy of slaughter in blood and mud … there is no undue irony in this great stallion’s story, insofar as it’s consequences, though its life is spared…

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The Evolution Shall Be Blogged: Our “Poets Against War” Wrap-up and Collection

If there were ever a worthy cause, this is it. Start to think how each of us can take a step, make a mark in the ground, leave our footprint there and make howsoever small a contribution towards exposing the complete and utter futility if war, and the unquestionable need for the human race to find another way, a different social and political order, which will ensure the maintenance of a constructive peace …

The Bardo Group Beguines's avatarThe BeZine

There are people for whom poetry exists almost exclusively as an aid to social change – not as some sort of didacticism – but as a discussion, a wake up call, a way of approaching some truth, finding some meaning, encouraging resolution. Most of the folks who participated in this Bardo community event aren’t among them. They are as likely to write about the beautiful flowers that have just popped on their orchid as they are to write a poem calling for change, peace and justice. But it does happen and quite often:  a horrific war photo, a news report of an injustice, a homeless person outside the grocery, a friend in pain that can be traced to some social issues, and the words start to flow. There’s the urge to respond, to do something . . .

As I make my way around the blogosphere, I am touched to see…

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